


Wrong Side of Love

by sp00kz



Series: Wrong Side Of Love [1]
Category: Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Coup de grace inspired, EYCTE era, Friends With Benefits, Infidelity, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, So much angst, basically Miles has it bad, milex - Freeform, so you can imagine how much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:14:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25098193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sp00kz/pseuds/sp00kz
Summary: It started as a little game.‘Gay chicken’, is that what they called it in America? Funny name that.Well, Miles had never been one to back out, no matter how ridiculous the challenge.Nevermind that this particular one pulled at his heartstrings till one day, they snapped altogether.If only someone had taught him to never wager his heart on silly games and losing hands.
Relationships: Miles Kane/Alex Turner
Series: Wrong Side Of Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1939234
Comments: 26
Kudos: 58





	Wrong Side of Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic spun around some lines from Miles' album, 'Coup de Grace', that I'm convinced are about Alex.  
> Some of them are a reach, for sure. But hey, I had a story to write!
> 
> The title is a play on the name of the song, 'Wrong side of life' from the same album.

**_‘Why do I always have to go killing the joke?’_ **

It started as a little game.

'Gay chicken’, is that what they called it in America? Funny name that. 

Well, Miles had never been one to back out, no matter how ridiculous the challenge, 

No matter how this particular one pulled at his heartstrings till one day, they snapped altogether.

If only someone had taught him to never wager his heart on silly games and losing hands. 

It was okay because they were friends.

What was a little space invaded, wandering hands and fluttering kisses between mates?

Somewhere along the way though, it was no longer a game.

But It was still okay.

Because now it was only a joke.

It was okay if it was preceded by alcohol and followed by laughs.

At least that’s what he told himself. 

Because they were friends, and it was okay.

Did friends hold hands? Know each other’s secret weak spots? Did friends share whispered words and mingled breathes in the dark? 

He didn’t know.

All he knew was that he and Alex did. 

Him and Al. This was them. It was their thing.

_Their_ Joke.

One that everyone knew but no one was privy to.

And it was okay. 

Because that’s what it was, a joke.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

Until Miles stepped over the already blurry boundary line. 

Only it wasn’t a fence that he stumbled over, It was a tripwire.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

_**  
"Surface tension, I won't mention** _

_**Liar, liar, liar, ha** _

_**Dancing finger, constant linger** _

_**Driving my head ill"** _

The crowd was loud, he could hear them over the music that played through his earpieces. The lights were bright and harsh, bathing him in hues of gold. Almost like the sun, a source of energy.

This was what made him feel most alive, being on stage, the lights, the music, the crowd hanging by his every word, every lick, as his fingers expertly flitted across the frets of his guitar. Mile could lose himself in it all.

And he was on the verge of it.

Until,

All of a sudden his senses were hijacked by the presence of one Alex Turner; his smell, his voice, his hand snaking around his neck, his soft breath playing on Miles’ lips as he sang the chorus of _Meeting Place_ like it was second nature. His golden bare bicep was glistening with sweat and Miles had the sudden inexplicable urge to li-

He did his best to keep up without faltering, to be the professional he prided himself in being. They had done this dozens of times. They planned these for god’s sake. But something about his sudden closeness made Miles’ head spin in the way it did often off late, much to his annoyance. 

Maybe he was imagining it, projecting unto him his own wishful thinking, or maybe it was the fact that he was hyper-aware of every inch of Alex that made contact with him.

But all of a sudden, as Alex inched closer to his already impossibly close body, no doubt to get better access to the mic, Miles reasoned, he could have sworn he felt a stiffness rub against his side. 

It could have been an accident. 

It happened often enough. A combination of stimulants, adrenaline, and impossibly tight pants, sometimes led to awkward situations _arising_ on stage and as embarrassing as they could be, there wasn’t much you could do about it during the show except to power on.

Or maybe he really did imagine it.

But then it happened again. 

And this time for longer than would be the acceptable millisecond that could be written off as an ‘accidental brush’.

He didn’t dare look at him for confirmation. What kind of confirmation would he be looking for anyway? ‘ _Do you have a hard on and are you rubbing it against me on purpose’?_

He focused his attention instead on trying to recall the words to the song he had sung hundreds of times before. Restraining his mind from wandering to images he’d rather not picture in front of hundreds of people.

When the set was done, Alex didn’t wait for him. He didn’t look at him. Miles found him laughing along with Zach as they made their way off stage.

They slowed down. Miles caught up. Alex passed him a half-empty bottle of water which Miles gratefully accepted. Zach asked him about his plans for the night. He told him he didn’t particularly have any. They were joined by Tyler who promptly stole the bottle from him. He asked them if they’d like to go get drinks with a bunch of his friends. Alex commented on how he seemed to have friends wherever they went. Everyone laughed. Plans were made.

And Miles knew. 

This was going to be one of those instances. The pile of which kept getting bigger and bigger by the day. The ones they’d never talk of, the ones that might as well have never happened, if it weren’t for the fact that they were all neatly filed, locked away securely in a vault somewhere deep in his head.

Sometimes, in the cocoon of dark nights and thick covers when the world went quiet and Miles was alone and free to roam in his mind without apprehension, he opened that vault and went through its contents, mulled them over in his head and secretly reveling in the way that the memories made him feel. 

  
  
  
  


* * *

_**"Running the circles through, right back to you** _

_**Finding at the finish line, nothing new"** _

“Next round’s on me.” Owen declared with the kind of triumph that only a drunk man could muster at the prospect of buying everyone drinks, as he made his way to the bar followed by the sound of loud cheers from their table.

It was the last day of the first European leg of their tour and they were all crammed into several booths at the back of the pub, celebrating.

Except, Miles was far from being in a celebratory mood.

His mind was too busy reeling from the unwelcome thoughts that had been swimming in his head for weeks now, the distress of which was only amplified by the presence of the subject of said thoughts in such close proximity. He hated this. Hated being so affected by it. And the more it went on, the more he got frustrated with himself.

Why couldn’t he have been more like Alex?

Alex, who was currently draped over him and didn’t think anything of it? Alex, who leaned his head casually into the crook of his neck and placed a casual drunken _friendly_ kiss there.

Miles slowly extracted himself from Alex’s embrace when his hand started absentmindedly massaging the small of his back, while he animatedly chatted with Claudia on his other side. The room was starting to feel too small. Too many people and too little air, thick and suspended.

“Mi?”

“Just gonna pop out for a smoke.”

“I’ll join you.”

Not finding the energy to protest, Miles sighed and led the way.

Stepping out into the side alley, Miles let the cool night air wash over him as he leaned against the wall and wordlessly extracted a cigarette. But Alex was quick to rid him of it before it made it to his lips. Taken aback, he looked up to find the other grinning at him cheekily.

Miles fleetingly considered punching him.

“How about a little something stronger?” His Slender fingers pulled out a little clear baggy from the inner pocket of his jacket. In it were three small white pills.

Miles raised his eyebrows at him and scoffed but made no move to object. Alex seemed to take that as a go-ahead because he was already pulling out one of the pills.

“When in Amsterdam-, am I right?”

He slowly placed it on the tip of his tongue, his eyes not leaving Miles’ once. But instead of swallowing it like Miles thought he would, he inched closer to him.

From here Miles could now see his eyes, wide, bright, mesmerizing. 

Of all of Alex’s considerable assets, his eyes had always been the ones to do him in. Because for all the masks Alex wore, all the facades he hid behind, all the games he played, his eyes carried a kind of sincerity that assured him that no matter what face he chose to dorn, no matter who he chose to be that day, deep down it was still Alex, his best mate. And that’s how they drew him in and held him captive.

And right now, in the dim borrowed light from the street lamp, his pupils taking over his irises, making them look almost completely black, they seemed to glow. And Miles was but a measly moth drawn to their flame.

Miles knew what he should be doing. He could hear the sirens, after all, blaring in his head, loud and clear. What he should be doing was walking away. Walking back into the bar. Hell, even back to his hotel room. Call it a night. And like he had resolved to an hour ago, days ago, lifetimes ago, put an end to this dangerous limbo.

But what he did was lean in. 

And before he knew it, he could taste Alex’s tongue. Then the pill. More tongue.The pill again. He swallowed it, if only to get it out of the way. All he knew was that the pill wasn’t there anymore. It was just him and Alex and his soft lips and glorious tongue.

...and also his hand, making its way down his torso, inching dangerously close to Miles’ crotch.

“Al Stop.” He broke off.

“Why?”

“Because...” He could rattle off all the reasons. Because you’re high and drunk and horny. Because you don’t _really_ want me. You just know that you can have me. And most importantly, because to you, it’s still just a bit of fun and I’m the one who’s going to have to pick up the broken pieces of my stupid broken heart tomorrow when you go back to pretending none of this ever happened. Because I….

“...You have a girlfriend.” It sounded lame even to his own ears.

“Hasn’t stopped you before,” he said offhandedly, trying to recapture his lips.

“Because...”

“Miles, baby,” He whined impatiently. A hand pulled him closer by the neck. “Come here.”

And when tomorrow comes, he knows, along with his heart, he would be picking up the pieces of his crumbled resolve as well.

Again.

* * *

_**"Waiting for lessons learned, taking turns** _

_**The loudest of them all, left to be unheard"** _

It started with alcohol. 

  
  


It always started with alcohol. 

  
  


And ultimately ended in remorse.

  
  


But Miles hadn’t known that then.

When they were on stage, Miles always pushed their limits, and Alex let him.

Alex would lean against him and he would pull him closer.

Alex would give him a peck and he would stick his tongue out.

Miles tested the limits of their game _._ And Alex let him.

But this time they didn’t have an audience. 

That changed things, right?

Miles didn’t know.

Miles pushed and Alex let him bend him.

But then Alex was pushing too.

And Miles couldn’t think straight.

The first time it happened, it was fueled by curiosity, pent up sexual energy, and a complete reckless disregard for consequences that is almost a prerequisite to being a young aspiring rockstar. All he cared was that he was horny and his fit best friend who he might or might not have had the hots for wanted him and was on him, kissing him and undressing him and his alcohol soaked brain told him not to be the kind of fool that looked such a gorgeous gift horse in the mouth and ruined it with overanalyzing. 

The second time had been a relief more than anything.

He had spent weeks tangled in a web of thoughts in his own head, worrying himself sick wondering if he had imagined it all. Had Alex liked it? Had he hated it? Did he regret it? Did Miles enjoy it more than he should have? What did that mean? For him, for them. Was he alone in this? Did Alex even remember?

Did it even happen?

But it had happened again. Drunken groping had led to drunken kissing and a drunken blowjob.

By the third time, the initial anxiety of their precarious situation had completely dissolved and Miles could let himself enjoy it knowing that their friendship would still be intact. And by the fourth time, they’d fallen into a pattern.

One that suited Miles more than well.

Friends by day, friends…. with certain benefits? by night. It was simple and it was uncomplicated.

Alcohol. Making eyes. Wandering hands. Stumbling in the dark. Exploring. Fucking. New day. Reset. Friends again. Repeat.

No questions, no judgment, no expectations. Just best mates that sometimes had mind-blowing sex.

And if Miles had worried at first that it would make things awkward, he soon found that it was completely unfounded because if anything it only made their friendship breezier. Because without the palpable unresolved sexual tension hanging thickly between them, that Miles had only realized was there when it eased up, they were free to be just best mates at all other times.

He was surprised at how easily they were able to slip in and out of the two roles. 

They never talked about it in the light of day. They never discussed what it meant for them. 

He did consider broaching the topic a few times initially but ultimately he thought better of it. He figured if Alex preferred to pretend it never happened, to keep it hidden under the shroud of night, it was just as well with him. He was simply content in enjoying it while he could. To the point where, to Miles, it felt like talking about it would somehow break the spell within which their arrangement was bound. And he would wake up from it to find that it was all just a fever dream.

Sometimes when Miles lay on his back covered in sweat, riding out his comedown after having touched the stars, he wondered how he had landed himself in such a perfectly contenting place. They were two healthy young adults in their prime, who loved and respected each other, whose bodies seemed to have the same synchronicity and harmony that their minds did and no one had to know about it and life could go on as is.

What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

_**"Interstellar, dressed in leather. drinking bitter boy** _

_**You know the plot but you don't know the ploy"** _

Miles was mad.

He was mad at Taylor for being the stupidly thoughtful girlfriend that she was, flying down to surprise her boyfriend on tour.

He was mad at his own girlfriend, now ex-girlfriend, for picking a fight with him on facetime over something he couldn’t even remember anymore.

He was mad at Alex, well he didn’t really need much reason to be mad at Alex these days, almost everything the man did, irked him, but the way he was wrapped around Taylor at this particular moment might have something to do with it.

But most of all he was mad at himself.

Mad at himself for being affected by it. 

He wasn’t stupid or oblivious. And while Miles was a lot of things, dishonest with himself was never one of them. He knew why it grated him so much. 

He just hated that it did.

He also knew most of his irritation these days, especially towards Alex, came from his own inability to deal with the frustrating situation that he had landed himself in.

But fuck if he was going to do anything about it.

  
  
Instead, he chose to sip his third drink of the night while glaring daggers at the loved up couple on the dancefloor that couldn’t seem to keep their hands to themselves, doing what could only be described as their rendition of dirty dancing.

The loud thumping of the music weirdly helped drown out the thumping in his head.

_Why don’t you just start shagging right here?_ Miles thought bitterly as a weight plopped in the barely-there space next to him on the sofa.

“Hey sulky”

“Huh?” 

“You look kind of spaced out.” It was Amy, their stage manager.

Miles tore his gaze away from the two who had now started furiously snogging to glance at her as a way of acknowledging her presence.

“Girl trouble?”

Miles scoffed. If only.

“Um...Hannah broke up with me.”

“Shit. Are you okay?”

Miles downed his drink and shrugged “Its fine. It was a long time coming anyway.”

He suddenly felt the urge to get out of there. Amy may be unassuming but she was very astute and the way she was looking at him, he could almost hear the wheels turning in her head. Before she had the chance to further prod him with questions about his breakup and work out why he wasn’t particularly torn up about it, he had to get away from there. His face had never been great at keeping his feelings secret and he wasn’t particularly feeling up to lying to her.

“Need another drink?” He offered, already on his feet and making his way to the bar.

“No, thanks.” she watched him leave warily.

At the bar, he found it surprisingly easy to get service. Normally he would have had to flash some currency before he got the barman’s attention. But today it almost seemed like the universe was trying to make up for the horrible day he was having with compensatory little miracles. 

Drink in hand and once again having nothing to distract him with, his gaze wandered to the dance floor.

“Can I buy you a drink?” came a voice, close enough to be heard over the loud music.

“Already got one mate” he replied absentmindedly, looking back to the spot where his two least favourite people at the moment were dancing, only to find that they were no longer there, or anywhere in the vicinity of the dancefloor for than matter. The pit of his stomach felt heavier. No doubt gone to find some secluded place to fuck. How considerate.

“Well, not anymore.” A chuckle cut through his bitter reverie. Miles looked down at his glass to find that he had downed his drink. For the first time, he looked over at the source of the voice. 

He was fit. That’s the first thing Miles noticed. 

The next thing he noticed was that this guy was around his height, black hair, sharp features but a friendly face and at the very moment was giving Miles his undivided attention. And also Miles was well on his way to being drunk.

“You know what, why the fuck not”

The man’s smile grew brighter. “Why the fuck not,” he repeated, clicking his own glass to Miles’ now empty one before turning to the barman.

  
  
  
  


// 

  
  
  
  


There was a buzzing in his head. It was getting louder and louder. Until... no, it wasn’t in his head, it was coming from somewhere outside his head. Somewhere distant. But not distant. Way too close. His phone. He felt around his bed a few times before he got hold of the vibrating device.

He tried to force his eyes open. Too offended by the bright sunlight that filled the room, they fought him for a few seconds before finally giving in.

Four texts and several missed calls from his manager.

This was bad.

The latest one read, _Okay Kane if you’re not down in 10 minutes I’m going to have to send a rescue party up._

He went through the rest.

  
_Why aren’t you answering your calls? you better not still be asleep._

  
_Everyone’s waiting for you. Come get a bite and then we’re off._

  
_Morning Miles! This is to remind you that we’ll be leaving for rehearsals in an hour, meet downstairs for breakfast._

He groaned and buried his face in his pillow begging his head to stop its hammering and bracing himself for a long day of powering through a hangover.

  
  


By the time he joined the rest of the crew, most of them seemed to have finished eating. He fell into an empty chair with a thump.

“Look who decided to show up!” zack announced dramatically as he dug into a plate piled with what looked like half the buffet’s servings. Miles stole a piece of bacon for which he got a prompt shove in return.

“You look like shit mate, that must mean you had fun last night?” quipped Ian.

He groaned. “I feel like death," he said, burying his face in his hands. "Guess I’m not as young as I used to be.”’

A scoff from down the table made him look up. For the first time since his arrival, his attention was drawn to Alex. Alex, who was looking fresh as ever in a loose billowy shirt and lazily styled hair that was still slightly damp from a recent shower. The only possible hints of exhaustion he might have had were hidden behind the pair of dark glasses perched on his nose.

“Could have fooled me.” 

Miles stared at him quizzingly but instead of elaborating, he merely went back to sipping, what Miles could only assume was tea and looking anywhere but at him.

  
  


Things didn’t seem to get any better at rehearsal. Alex found little things to snap at him for. Once it was for a flat note, another time it was for forgetting a word in one of the choruses. He even blasted him for tripping over a wire and almost landing on his face. _Your carelessness could have gotten you injured and then we’d have to cancel the whole show. Get it together!_

Miles didn’t know what was up his arse, but if it wasn’t him, he figured he didn’t much care. It was a wonder what a bit of sexual release could do for one’s attitude. The irritation that had been gnawing at him for the past couple of days had almost evaporated, thanks to the fit distraction that had come his way just in time, like a godsend. 

He had been too drunk to remember all of the details but he remembered the bits that mattered. His companion had not been shy and Miles for a change, on his part had been anything but reluctant. And he had actually enjoyed himself after a long time. It had been refreshing, being able to fool around without having to spare any thought to the weight of consequences that dawn would bring. 

They hadn’t done much, just some heavy petting and sloppy handjobs in the bathroom stalls. But still, it had been fun and Miles had woken up feeling pretty content and light despite the terrible hangover.

As it turned out, Miles wasn’t the only recipient of Alex’s wrath that day, everyone from the sound guy to a roadie to the cab driver on the way back to the hotel, got a mouthful. He decided he had had quite enough when Alex stormed towards the elevator, leaving him to pay as well as apologize for his rudeness to the cabbie.

Miles caught up to him just as the elevator was about to close, sliding himself into it in the nick of time. He didn’t call him out on it but he had a suspicion Alex had been trying to close the door in his face.

“What the bloody hell has gotten into you?”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb with me Turner. You know what. Why are you acting especially like a prick today?”

“Is it my fault that people can’t do their goddamn jobs? All I wanted was to get done with rehearsal and get back to my girlfriend who has flown across the world to see me and has been waiting for me all day.”

“But of course I couldn’t do that, could I? And had to keep her waiting, alone, because some people are just too incompetent.”

Miles rubbed his eyes in frustration.

A loud ding cut into the silence. And Miles was grateful for it. As they stepped out into the hallway of their floor, he resolved to make a beeline for his room and not engage with Alex for the rest of the day, hoping that whatever this mood was, would pass by the time he’d have to see him next. Maybe some time alone with his girlfriend would help sort him out after all. 

But a low yet scathing mumble made him stop and turn on his heels. “Or because some people have forgotten that this is in fact not a holiday but a _work trip_.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that some people are maybe slacking because they're too focused on having a good time. _”_

Miles wanted to laugh. And pull out what little hair he had on his head. Who died and made Alex Turner the watchdog of work ethics?

“Are you kidding me? _You_ are saying this? You who get drunk before going on stage? You who would probably fail every drug test there is? You who’s always bloody late to every single appointment ever?” _You who were practically shagging in the middle of the dance floor last night?_

“Besides, what are you even on about? Are you really accusing me of being irresponsible and unprofessional because I, what, had a bit much to drink last night?”

“I saw you, you know. With that bloke. That was pretty fucking irresponsible. Anyone could have seen you. Someone could have taken pictures.” His eyes were slits and his nose was slightly turned up haughtily in a way that Miles would have found comical if he weren’t seething at the implication of his words. 

“And? Maybe I don’t care! Have you thought of that? Maybe I’m not quite as ashamed of who I am as you’d think.” Maybe Miles had just decided on that and maybe he didn’t feel as confident in his declaration as he made it sound. But Alex didn’t need to know that bit.

“Who _you are_? What do you mean, who you are?”

“Gay, Alex. Into blokes. Surely you’ve noticed.” 

Now the way Alex’s eyes flew open wide was truly comical. But he didn’t dare laugh. He did, however, feel a bit proud of himself for being able to shock Alex given that it didn’t happen very often. Because he had finally said out loud what they had always actively avoided so much as addressing, skirting around it as if it was a ghost from an urban legend that must not be named lest it should materialize and become real.

"But you’re not,” Alex muttered weakly.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Miles scoffed and turned to walk towards his room only to be stopped by a hand at his elbow.

“So what? You’ve had some kind of a sexual pride awakening and now you’re going to go around fucking random guys in clubs, is that it?”

“Maybe I am, what’s it to you anyway?” He jerked his arm free. He had had enough of Alex sitting on his high horse lecturing him about proprietary.

“Go back to your bird, Alex. I hear she’s been waiting for you all day.”

  
  


//

  
  
  


Miles had only just slipped into what could have been sound sleep when he was rudely roused by a faint knock on his door. 

He wasn’t sure he hadn’t imagined it until he heard it again, faint and hesitant. Forcing himself out of bed, he opened the door partially, squinting, his eyes trying to adjust to the light in the hallway.

“Alex?”

“I know what you’re doing.” 

“Excuse me?”

“Is this some kind of tit-for-tat thing? Because that would be awfully childish of you.”

“What are you on about? Have you been drinking?”

“With the bloke,” He said, ignoring the second question.

Alex’s voice then took on a dangerously low and deliberate tone as he leered, “You were jealous isn’t it?”

“Cuz Taylor is here and I’m with her and you’re jealous and felt left out. Is that it? Did you want my attention that bad Miles? Or is it that you couldn’t go without cock for even a day?”

His words were laced with spite and Miles could almost taste the bitterness of them. He said it like he got off on knowing that he held power over Miles.

But what hurt most wasn’t that he did in fact hold a power over him. Miles had had some time to come to terms with that.

He would be lying if he said it didn’t cross his mind, the thought of Alex seeing him with the man whose name he couldn’t recall. But if anything, it had been from a place of self-preservation, a need for self-assurance that he didn’t need Alex to have fun. That he could be himself, enjoy himself, and get off without Alex. That he wasn’t completely compromised. 

What hurt was that Alex was willing to use it to strike him where he thought it hurt.

What he wanted to tell him was, in that particular moment it was Alex that was acting like a petulant child, that if it didn’t bother him a bit, he wouldn’t be here at Miles’ door at one in the morning, seemingly plastered, demanding an explanation. But what he settled on was the much more eloquent, “Fuck off Alex,” as he slammed the door in his face.

* * *

_**"I don't want to beg or steal, I don't want to borrow hearts** _

_**I just want to make it real"** _

_Bathed in the moonlight, the only light in the room, the other seems to glow._

_The luminescence of the moon softening his edges in a way that makes him look fragile, almost vulnerable._

_All of a sudden, Miles is overcome with the urge to hug him, to hold him close in a way that is completely uncharacteristic of their secret rendezvous sessions._

_He wants to put that silly thought away and focus on the here and now._

_Alex._

_His teeth on his neck. Biting. Sucking._

_He knows it will blossom into an angry bruise tomorrow._

_But he doesn’t care. Doesn’t stop him._

_Maybe he wants it to._

_Something to remind._

_Something to make it feel real._

_Alex looks up at him. Almost as if he can read his mind (Miles wouldn’t be surprised if he could), almost as if he knows the treacherous off-trail path his thoughts are going down._

_He holds his gaze as if looking for something beyond them._

_Looking for confirmation, perhaps, that this was still what they had known it to be._

_But Miles wants to scream, NO._

_No, it isn’t the same._

_Something is different. He is different. THIS is different._

_He doesn’t know how or when the shift happened._

_But it just feels different and it was scaring the living daylight out of him._

_He squeezes his eyes shut because he can’t let them betray him._

  
  


_Because it wasn’t supposed to go like this. It was just supposed to be cheap thrills and easy pleasure._

_But right now, having him on him, in him, was filling him up with something he had never known before._

_Every thrust feels like being submerged underwater._

_The intensity of it makes him want to cry and say things he knows he’ll regret._

  
  
  


_So he wraps his legs around the firm torso instead, in an attempt to pull the other impossibly close._

_He kisses him fiercely, if only to shut himself up._

_He meets his thrusts with equal force, wanting to lose himself in the act._

_It feels as if Alex is invading him in every sense, and he wants him to take it all, everything he has to offer._

_Because Miles is in Love with Alex._

_In the most nonplatonic way._

_Completely and utterly disgustingly in love with him._

  
  
  


_In a way that will only end up destroying him._

_He knows._

_Because it's crawling under his skin,_

_the realization that Alex was everything Miles ever wanted, but also everything he is afraid to ask for._

_He buries the thought in favour of joining Alex in the present, in chasing their mutual releases. This is what it had always been about, wasn’t it? Getting off?_

_His fingernails scraping at the smooth expanse of the other’s back, almost as if to hurt, to make him feel some of the pain that he is feeling bloom in himself._

_Their breaths mingling, Miles swallows all of Alex’s little whispers of hyperbolic praises and superlatives as he slowly loses coherence._

_And when it finally hits, taking over his entire body with the kind of ferocity that he’s never felt before, he knows why the French call it ‘La Petite Mort’._

_Truth be told he wishes it had killed him._

_Because when the passion subsides, reality grabs him by the neck and yanks him back to earth, forcing him to face his newfound revelation._

_Oh, he was fucked._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Alex is lying on his side, facing him._

_He wants to ignore him but he knows it would be a battle lost. So he just gives in to the awareness of the other’s presence. His heavy breathing, slowing by the second, almost a soothing background sound to his own tumultuous thoughts._

_He doesn’t look over even though he knows Alex is looking at him, silently trying to grab his attention._

_He feels movement next to him._

_And now Alex is burying his face in his neck._

_“Mi?” he whispers._

_“Hmm”_

_"Are you having a staring contest with the ceiling?” His quiet chuckle sends little huffs of air dancing on his neck, setting his skin alight with goosebumps. “Who’s winning?”_

_"_ _Sod off,” he mutters._

_He feels him snake his hand around his chest and cuddle closer instead._

_“What are you thinking?” His lips brush the shell of his ear as he says it and damn if Miles remembers anymore._

_All of a sudden he feels breathless. The ceiling feels like it's coming alive, inching closer. And the arms that had always felt like home: warm and comfortable, now feel like restraints._

_“I have to leave.” He frees himself and starts scanning the room for his discarded clothes._

_“What? Miles, it’s late.”_

_“I know. But I can’t stay.”_

_"Don’t be ridiculous. Sure you can stay. I don’t mind.”_

_He watches as Alex’s head lazily falls back onto the mound of fluffy pillows. His eyes fluttering shut, his limbs limp with exhaustion, already well on his way to being asleep, he looks like the personification of the word satiated._

_He knows Alex doesn’t mind. That is the problem. It didn’t make any difference to him either way because it doesn’t affect him the way it does Miles._

_Because for him it’s still just a convenient fuck._

_And he’s still blissfully oblivious to how Miles’ heart has betrayed them both._

_And that knowledge makes him want to bolt faster._

_Because, to Alex, It was just sharing a bed, as they did. But Miles couldn’t stand sleeping in the same bed as him, holding him in his arms, not now, not anymore, knowing that it was just a fantasy built on borrowed time; a taste of what he can never have._

_He needs to clear his mind and get his head screwed on right, to get away from the room that reeks of Alex and sex and hopelessness._

* * *

_**"You can paint it all black** _

_**'cause you're never gonna get it clean** _

_**when its easier to leave"** _

Miles woke up with the distinct urge of wanting to go back to sleep. To cradle back into the blissful emptiness of unconsciousness. The fight he had with Alex the previous day weighed on his chest like a sack of bricks and he didn’t know if he had the strength to go about his day carrying around the weight of it.

After some serious feet dragging and pep-talking, he was able to make it to the lobby to join the rest of the crew just in time to leave for the venue, only to find Alex, who was standing away from the rest and huddling with Taylor, mirroring what he imagined was his own state. Gone was the well-rested fresh-faced Alex from the previous morning. This one looked exhausted and beaten and like he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

Watching him cling to Taylor, sharing quiet whispers, he looked small and defeated. Miles almost felt bad for him, but not enough to approach him and initiate any hatchet burying. He may have thought he himself had handled the whole thing poorly but the things Alex had said played in his head on repeat and the venom in his words still stung. So instead of trying to be the bigger person, he stuffed his ears with his Earpods, put on his most convincing _purposeful_ gait, and steered his way straight into the waiting van.

  
  
//

“Hey Miles.”

He looked up from tuning his guitar to find a pair of long legs towering close to him. Attached to them was the slender figure of Alex’s girlfriend, Taylor.

“Hey, Tay! Alright?" he asked making space on the couch for her.

"Yeah, I didn’t get a chance to catch up with you. Just thought I’d come say hi.” She smoothed her manicured nails over her jeans and fidgeted with her rings hesitantly before continuing, “Actually, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Nothing good ever followed that sentence and it was enough to set alarm bells off in Miles’ head. All of a sudden he felt alert, his palms felt clammy and his ears felt hot.

“Oh?” he nudged, as nonchalantly as he could manage, trying to keep his breathing steady and hoping Taylor hadn’t noticed the sudden shift in his demeanor. 

He went back to tuning his guitar, or at least attempting to, if only to give his hands something to do. But all his attention was on the woman beside him.

“Its..um.. it’s about Alex.”

And now he felt like he might pass out just from the way his heart was hammering.

“Do you know what’s up with him? He’s been acting strange since yesterday. I thought he might sleep it off but it’s only gotten worse today.” 

It took every ounce of strength he had to not audibly sigh in relief. She didn’t know. 

“He’s smoked nearly half a pack of cigarettes before we even left the room and he won’t tell me what’s bothering him. It’s not like him to clam up on me like this,” she hesitated before continuing, “I know I shouldn’t be talking to you about it behind his back but I’m just really worried about him and since he won’t talk to me I figured you might be able to help.” 

Miles could tell she was genuinely concerned and it made him nauseous. Because she loved Alex. It was written all over her face. Her wide eyes brimming with worry gave her away. 

Just like he did. And he wondered if his sold him out the same way.

“I wish I could help you, love, but I have no idea.” Miles felt the urge to make up an excuse and flea the scene but something kept him firmly in place.

Maybe it was the masochist in him that forced him to stay and confront her. _Here is the girlfriend of the man you love. Look at her. She’s real. Look how she cares for him, listen to her worries, completely legitimate for a significant other. That which you are not._

Or maybe it was a part of him far less sinister that felt bad for her, that urged him to compensate for the wrong her lover was doing to her, one that he was an accomplice to. 

Or maybe it was that he sympathized with her at being left out of the loop that was the world of Alex Turner when he felt fit, at being hopelessly in love with a man that was neither of theirs in his entirety.

“Look, don’t worry.” He squeezed her shoulder in a way that he hoped was comforting, “you know how he gets, all tied up in his head. I’m sure it’s fine. Just give him some time. I’m sure he’ll be back to normal soon enough.”

“I suppose.” She flashed him a weak smile before standing up and once again smoothing her palms over the front of her jeans, a nervous tick, Miles noted. “I should go find him. Good luck with your show. I’ll see you after yeah?”

“Of course. Cheers, love.”

“And Miles, thanks.”

“No worries. And don’t do your head in worrying about that tosser,” he added good-naturedly. If only she could take a peek into his mind, she’d know how hypocritical he was being.

If he thought the whole debacle in the dressing room would be the most uncomfortable situation he’d have to be in all day, he soon found out that he was gravely mistaken.

He didn’t remember the last time he felt so strung up on stage.

They played their respective parts well enough, expertly performing as they had every other time. But the tension between the two of them was palpable. Miles refused to interact with Alex in any way other than what was absolutely necessary to keep up appearances. And although an outsider most likely couldn’t tell that something was off, the rest of the band had definitely taken notice. Loren kept throwing them questioning glances between songs which he also very unsubtly exchanged with Zach when he thought neither Miles nor Alex were looking.

Alex, every bit the professional entertainer, played his part to a tee. He sang his heart out, danced around manically, and somehow made it look like he was having the time of his life. He could have fooled Miles too with his little performance of effervescence if it weren’t for how his breath caught and his back stiffened for the few seconds that they had to share a mic while singing the chorus of _Standing next to me_ as was customary.

“Trouble in paradise?” asked Loren when he went upstage for a water break.

“What?” 

“You and Al. All good?”

“Erm yeah...yeah. Just not feeling it today. I think I might be coming down with something.”

“Alright,” He said, not sounding entirely convinced but unwilling to push it either, for which Miles was grateful.

“Hang in there. Just a couple more to go.”

And that would definitely be a welcome relief to Miles because for once he couldn't wait to get off the stage.

Alex seemed to have the same idea because as soon as their set was done, he was off, stumbling into Taylor’s waiting arms who whisked him away somewhere backstage, out of his sight. His departure seemed to drag the bag of bricks with it because for the first time that day he felt himself being able to breathe easily.

Instead of making his way towards the dressing rooms to pack up, he chose to linger for a while longer in the backstage area having a smoke with Tyler and Loren and a couple of roadies. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he thought Alex would be in there and maybe he was waiting for him to leave for the hotel before he went and got his stuff so he wouldn’t have to run into him at all. And maybe it was a bit wussy of him but he decided not to dwell on it. 

Because standing there having a laugh with the guys, Miles felt the most relaxed he had all day. He was able to forget, or at least put aside any thoughts of Alex onto the back burner for the time being. But he knew his good mood was destined for an untimely death when the rest of them went abruptly quiet mid-laughter, their attention drawn to something behind him.

“Miles, can I talk to you?”

Immature as it may be, Miles briefly considered pretending like he couldn’t hear or see him so he wouldn't have to deal with whatever storm this simple request was bound to bring. He fleetingly wished a pile of sand would appear so he could stick his head in it.

“Miles!”

But as enticing as his very plausible plan was, the Intrigued faces looking between the two of them made it hard for him to dwell much longer on it. With the tension in the small space steadily rising by the second, he saw no way out but to give in.

“Fine,” he huffed and followed Alex to a secluded spot a little far off, away from any curious eyes and prying ears.

He had been prepared for an onslaught. He was bracing himself for a fight, maybe even secretly hoping for it. So he could get all of the pent up frustration out of him once and for all. Maybe even throw a few punches. 

But what he got instead was a soft “I’m sorry,” that took him completely off guard.

“...about yesterday. And all the things I said…I..erm..just…I shouldn't have. Any of it. I'm really sorry.” 

Before Miles could process his words and come up with a suitable response, he continued,

“I don't know what came over me. I was just being a wanker. You know how I get sometimes. I guess, its just,” He watched as Alex took a steadying breath before continuing, “it’s just that I’ve never seen you with another bloke before and I thought...It’s fucking stupid...I just had this silly idea in me head that it was just me, you know, that it were just us..that _thing_...I don’t know why I thought that. Of course you can be with whoever you want, it’s not like we’re tied down or anything.” He laughed as if the absurdity of the very idea of it tickled him.

“And Amy told me you and Hannah broke up that day? That kind of explains it, doesn’t it. Shit! I just feel like such an arse!” He raked his fingers through his hair in exasperation. “I don't want to keep fighting Miles. Tour’s almost over and I don’t want us ending things on a sour note. Also, I hate it when we’re not talking. It just feels so wrong. So let’s just move past it yeah?”

Miles was so gobsmacked that he didn’t trust himself to form words, so he just stood there. 

Alex seemed to take his silence or rather his lack of a violent outburst as an encouraging sign because he moved closer to him and gingerly fingered Miles’ collar.

“Taylor’s leaving tonight so….”

Miles felt the urge to ask Alex if ever got worn out from all the shagging he did but he was making a great deal of effort, very uncharacteristic effort and so he bit his tongue and simply nodded, and Alex beamed at him as if he had agreed to pluck him a star.

“I’ll see you tonight then.” He hesitated for a minute before walking away, leaving Miles to deal with the shouting match in his head.

  
  
  
//

  
  


He lay on his back fighting with every fiber of his being to not check his phone. He did, however, allow himself to glance at the little bedside clock, to find that only a minute had gone by since he had last checked it.

_1:27 am_

Alex wasn’t coming. And that was a good thing! He scolded himself. He should not be disappointed. It was better this way. For his own sake. But his eyes skittered for another glance and no it wasn’t hope they carried.

  
  


_1:35 am_

“Miles I’m so sorry!” A storm named Alex Turner blew into his room as soon as he opened the door. “Taylor’s flight was delayed by an hour, Its raining bollocks out there! Are you seeing that shit? And then the traffic was absolutely horrific and I even ruined my jacke-” he stopped mid-rant only to pause and take in the figure of Miles still standing by the door, his hands still firmly clutching the handle, before saying in a gentler voice, “Babe, why are you so far away?”

  
  


_1:45 am_

“I want you in my mouth.” The words whispered directly into his ear, followed by a stinging bite to his lobe was enough to almost completely obliviate whatever thoughts he might have been having before. 

“God the things I want to do to you!” Alex all but growled and it went straight to his cock. “Been thinking about this all day.” And just like that, the world was suddenly reduced to Alex. And Alex’s body, desperately pressed to his own, that’s all that mattered. 

_That’s all that ever mattered, isn’t it?_ A little voice in him distantly chimed in.

Almost.

“Alex, stop.”

  
  


_1:48 am_

“I don’t understand. What are you saying, Miles?”

Miles wished he could hit pause, although considering how still Alex had gone, he might as well have, to collect himself. To brace himself for what was to come. He had flung himself into the middle of the ocean and he had no choice but to see this through, to pull himself together and swim to the shore.

“You were right, Alex.”

“I was jealous. I was jealous of you and Tay.” He took a deep steadying breath, “I was jealous of Tay. “

“Miles.”

“...because I wished it were me. I wished it were me on that dance floor with you. I wished it were me that you put your arms around for everyone to see because you wanted to. I wished it were me who was kissing you right there in the middle of the club, just because I could. Because Alex, I lov-”

“Miles don’t.” He warned, his voice going dangerously low. “don’t you dare say it.”

  
  


1:52 am 

“What do you want me to say, Miles? What is it that you expect of me?” Alex pleaded, his voice rising even though Miles could tell he was fighting to keep it steady.

Miles didn’t respond. Having finally put down the weight he’d been carrying with him for weeks, Miles suddenly felt relieved and exhausted at the same time. He just sat there, on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, listening to Alex bluster exasperatedly, while he silently mourned the words he had let go off, the words he knew he couldn’t take back. 

He reluctantly lifted his gaze to find Alex pacing, frustration written all over his face. A distant dissociated part of Miles’ brain mused how sexy he looked at that moment.

All worked up, with his shirt unbuttoned, fingers raking through his already tousled hair, looking completely disheveled. 

“I have a girlfriend!” _Oh, so you do remember._

“And I love her” _You have a funny way of showing it._

He abruptly came to a stop, standing right in front of him.

“We had a good thing going on Miles. A great thing! Why’d you have to go fuck it up?”

The way he said it made Miles want to squirm. As if the fact that Miles was in love with him was nothing more than a grave inconvenience that he had brought upon the both of them.

“Why’d you have to bloody ruin it?”

  
  
  
_2:13 am_

“It’s still not too late. You hear me? We can still fix this.” Miles would have pitied Alex for sounding so desperate if he wasn’t too busy trying to hold together the pieces of his own breaking heart. 

“You don’t want to fuck anymore, that’s fine. We’ll stop. Pretend like it never happened. We’ll go back to like it was before, we’ll go back to being jus-”

“You’ve just always been so good at it,” He couldn’t help interject snidely, “Pretending.”

“But I can’t anymore Alex. I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t be just your friend because it would destroy me completely. We’re too far gone. You’re right, I fucked it up.” He said, the words coming out every bit as defeated as he felt. “And don’t you get it? I do want to fuck. But I want so much more. I want you, all of you.”

“I can’t give you that Miles!” Alex shouted.

“Why not?” and now it was him, desperately begging, any shred of self-respect that he might have held on to, dissipating into the air. “Why can’t you at least consider it?”

“Miles. Please don’t.” The other tried to reach out but Miles was quick to pull away from the contact. He was holding himself up with every ounce of will he had and he knew that a mere touch from Alex was all it would take to send him crumbling to the floor.

Because Miles knew what Alex was not saying, what he was deliberately holding back to spare his feeling.

_...Because I don’t feel the same way about you._

  
  


_2_ _:25_

“I do love you.”

He nodded.

“But I cant….not like that. What you’re asking…I can’t!”

“I know.” He whispered. “Because you love me, but not enough, not like that. Right?”

“Godfuckingdammit Miles, that’s not fair!”

  
The man that stood in front of him wasn’t his friend. He was a shell of the bright, passionate, exuberant man he had known to be his best friend. 

“I can’t... not you! This wasn’t supposed to…it was supposed to be harmless. It didn't mean anything, it wasn't supposed to.” He said covering his eyes with his hands.

"...I wish we had never.”

And for the first time, Miles knew what it meant when they said that words could cut deeper than knives.

_2:36 am_

Two friends sat with their heads to the floor, one on the edge of the bed, one perched against the wall. Between them lay the debris of their friendship and everything else they had built upon it. Because what they thought was made of iron and bricks, turned out to be a house of cards. All it took was a nudge for it to come crashing down.

“I’m sorry, Miles. I don’t know what else to say.”

Miles didn’t look up, not that that would make any difference, it wasn’t like he could see anything anyway through the blur of tears that had taken over his eyes. “I am too Alex. More than you’ll know.”

There was only a few meters between them but the distance to Miles, felt like a few hundred miles and it kept growing. He couldn’t help but think that soon it would turn to infinite and he’d never be able to find his way to the other.

He shut his eyes and set the tears free, cascading down his face. He didn’t even look up when the distinct sound of the door closing and the lock clicking into place filled the otherwise silent room with a sense of finality.

**Author's Note:**

> Phew! This is the longest anything I've ever written and my first time writing anything remotely plotty.  
> When I say, "What a death I died..."! My respect for anyone who writes long-form has gone up by 100 X
> 
> Also, This is not supposed to end here. I had planned this to have a second concluding part from Alex's perspective.  
> Would you be interested in reading that or is this shit storm quite enough?
> 
> Please do leave me your thoughts or feedback. I'd love to hear what you have to say :)
> 
> *La Petite Mort - 'Little death'


End file.
